“Soul, wilt thou toss again?By just such a hazardHundreds have lost, indeed,But tens have won all.Angels' breathless ballotLingers to record thee;Imps in eager caucusRaffle for my soul.”

“Wilt thou, then, my soul, never be good and simple and one and naked, more manifest than the body which surrounds thee?”

“Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee Save Me, save only Me?All which I took from thee I did but take, Not for thy harms.But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms. All which thy child's mistakeFancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home; Rise, clasp My hand, and come!”

“…a man should say to his soul every morning, "God has given thee twenty-four treasures; take heed lest thou lose anyone of them, for thou wilt not be able to endure the regret that will follow such loss.”

“And thou who thinkest to seek for me, know thy seeking and yearning shall avail thee not, unless thou know this mystery: that if that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee”

“Lo, thou, my Love, art fair;Myself have made thee so;Yea, thou art fair indeed,Wherefore thou shalt not needIn beauty to despair;For I accept thee so,For fair.[excerpt from "Christ to His Spouse"]”